


all alone

by desastrista



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Aimeric Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Class Differences, Fix-It, M/M, Mentions of Pedophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:29:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8421853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desastrista/pseuds/desastrista
Summary: Inspired by Green But For a Season. AU - Auguste never discovers Jord and so Jord never joins the Princes Guard. Instead, he finds work at Fortaine, where he is assigned to instruct Lord Guion's fourth son in swordfighting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> What to do when you just have too many feelings after reading green but for a season? Write an AU, of course! 
> 
> Sorry to Smaurent for taking Jord away from the Princes Guard, but I wanted an AU for Aimeric/Jord where things could play out differently.

Jord had considered himself lucky when he was offered a job on a merchant train. The pay was good and he got to see sights that he never would have imagined. They’d gone all around Vere, and even down into Akielos. 

But today the sight they were seeing was the inside of a fortress. Jord was tending to the horses, making sure they were watered. Or at least, that’s what he was pretending to do. He was really staring at the great stone walls that made up the fortress. Thinking of the men it had taken to build those walls. The men it took to guard them. All to house an aristocratic family who were close in heritage to kings.

Jord had never been inside the walls of a fortress before. He wondered when the people who lived here stopped feeling so small. 

He was too busy with his own thoughts to notice the men who had walked up to him. 

“You there,” one of the men cried out, “The merchant’s guard! Care to spar?” 

Jord turned around to see. Three men stood not far from him. The voice belonged to the man in the middle who stood with two dulled blades and a wide smile on his face. The men who flanked him on either side just looked bored. With their uniforms and gear, they looked to belong to the guards for this fortress. 

Jord gave them all a wary stare. The man who had spoken had an aristocratic lisp, and Jord had no interest in fighting an aristocrat. 

“I’m supposed to be watching the wagon,” he said, as way of explanation. 

“And you can watch it while we spar,” the man said, his smile unshaken. “Come on, always good to get in some practice.” 

He threw the sword at Jord, who caught it awkwardly. It did not seem like this man would be deterred. With a sigh, Jord got a good grip on the sword and held it in front of him. 

The man’s first lunge was easy to avoid. He had good footwork, but he was easy to predict. Jord dodged, and then parried the next blow. Maybe, he found himself thinking, he could tire whoever this was out. It wouldn’t do to hit an aristocrat. Not if he wanted to avoid the lash. Or keep his job. 

After a moment, the man backed off. Sweat had formed on his brow and he wiped it off before flashing Jord another one of those too-broad smiles. “You’re holding back,” he said. “No point in holding back in practice. It’s not like the Akielons will.” 

He lunged forward again, faster this time. Jord had no choice. A quick dodge, a thrust and then the dull thud as the man hit the ground. The other guards muttered in surprise. Jord could see some of the dark looks that they gave him. Jord offered a hand to help the man up and grunted out an apology. 

“No need to apologize,” the man said. “My name is Haldrin. I’m the Captain of the Guards here at Fortaine. And what is your name?” 

“Jord.” 

“Well, Jord,” Haldrin extended a hand. “If we can convince you to leave that merchant, the guards here could use a swordsman of your talent.” 

 

After affairs were settled, the merchant compensated for his loss and Jord given the proper armor, Haldrin led him around the castle and explained their lofty mission. Relations with Akielos had been soured since the death of Prince Auguste but the border had been stable, he said, but that could not be expected to last forever. Because of the high position occupied by Councilor Guion, the guards at Fortaine had become something of a nesting ground for social climbers and had lost their military spirit. Haldrin wanted to change this. The fact that Jord was lowborn did not matter to him, so long as Jord could fight. 

Jord walked away feeling somehow both proud and humbled, that he had been chosen despite his rank to participate in such a noble cause. 

It did not take him long to learn the limits of Haldrin’s influence. 

It started the first morning with some crude jokes at his mother’s offense, and while Jord bristled he knew that kind of talk was common and did not mean much. In a crowd Jord got jostled once or twice, but it could have been accidental, and he never saw the men who did it. 

For the most part, the men did not talk to him. That was fine enough with Jord. They spoke mostly of gossip from Arles, whether certain lords had risen or fallen in favor, letters that they had received. When news did not come, they talked about the lovers they’d taken, or planned to take, bragging of the connections they would receive if the lover was highborn or describing their conquests if the lover was lowborn. 

Jord had little to offer in these conversations. 

He simply tried to keep his head down, think about the good wages he was earning, and wonder when he would get a glimpse of the family. So far he’d been kept to the barracks, and besides they said the Councilor was away at the moment. Perhaps Jord would have been successful in avoiding more attention until Lord Guion’s return, but one day he was challenged by Alix. Alix was another guard, the second son of a minor lord, and easy enough to disarm. But in the process Jord had hit him on the arm hard enough to leave a mark. There was no missing the dark looks and muttering that Jord got the next day. 

Even Haldrin noticed. “Perhaps,” he said bracingly, “We should put you on some unpopular duty for a while. Until the other guards have really gotten a chance to know you.” 

Jord privately doubted that day would ever come, but nodded along. He was expecting something horrible – cleaning the latrines, perhaps, or some ungodly shift at night on the wall – so he was surprised when Haldrin said, “I bet Alix would love to hear that someone else would be instructing Aimeric in combat.” 

 

The night before he was supposed to have his first lesson with Aimeric, the silence that he had been getting as of late from the other guards ended. Instead, they all took the opportunity at dinner to shower Jord with sympathy for what he had to do, none more so than Alix. 

“Aimeric is the fourth son of Lord Guion,” Alix explained, “and the absolute worst of the lot.” 

“Moody,” said another. 

“Temperamental.” 

“Coddled by his mother,” chimed in yet another. 

All these guards were the sons of minor lords, all of them desperate for the attention and maybe patronage of Lord Guion. Jord considered his response carefully. “If he’s Lord Guion’s son, surely getting in his good graces –.” 

Before he could even complete the thought, he was cut off by a disbelieving snort. “Lord Guion has a lot of sons,” Alix explained, patiently. “I think too many for even him to keep track of. No, Aimeric is known throughout all the castle for his temper. The family got him a pet, and it wasn’t even a year before they had to offer the contract to someone else. Couldn’t shower someone with enough jewels to love him.” 

Jord remembered the look of utter disbelief and cold fury that Alix had worn after Jord had hit him. If he was already to be surrounded by spoiled aristocrats, what would one more be? 

 

The normal training spots were occupied, so one of the rooms in the eastern wing of the castle had been cleared for fencing lessons. Aimeric was already there, sitting by the far wall when Jord arrived. Jord bowed and paid his respects. Aimeric did not look up. He was playing with the edge of a wooden sword. Jord frowned. Aimeric looked to be about eighteen: he should be training with real steel by now. But, Jord thought, it might be a personal preference. By now he knew better than to say anything. 

“Should we get started?” Aimeric asked in a flat voice. He stood up, one hand lazily twirling the sword in his hand. Jord grabbed the second training stick from the floor. Aimeric raised his arm in preparation for a strike. “I’m sure,” he continued, in that same flat voice, “you have someplace you would rather be.” 

It was an odd thing for him to say to a lowly guard like Jord, but fearing a trick, Jord did not say anything but just nodded. Aimeric’s first thrust was easy to knock aside. 

“You have good energy, but your stance is weak,” Jord said before he remembered himself. For half a second, the room was quiet. He waited for a retaliation. None of the guards would have taken so well to him telling them what to do, and they were only the sons of minor lords. But Aimeric didn’t say anything. He just nodded. “Your feet are too wide apart,” Jord said after a moment. Pushing his luck. Aimeric moved his feet closer together and look at Jord for guidance. He nodded when Jord nodded. 

“Again,” Jord said. 

Another thrust. Better this time, but still not at all difficult to parry. They repeated the process, and each time, he gave advice and each time Aimeric listened and did what he said. 

It was such a simple thing to produce such gratitude in Jord. More than once during the lesson, Jord found himself thinking that Aimeric was probably the first person under this roof to have listened to Jord while he spoke. 

Practice was supposed to take an hour, but they went over, and it was only Lady Loyse calling for Aimeric that alerted them that they had to end the session. 

“You did well today,” Jord said. “Your form’s not bad, just –”

“A little inconsistent?” Aimeric asked. He smiled bitterly. “I’ve had a lot of different teachers. You’ve probably heard.” When Jord didn’t say anything, he continued, his smiling taking on less of an edge. “Thank you.” 

Jord’s brow furrowed. “It’s my job.” 

“I’m not used to –,” Aimeric gave a small, helpless shrug. “Someone who actually wants to help.” 

All the things the guards had told him the night before replayed in his mind. He wished he had not heard them. “I think you have the potential to be very good. With practice.” 

Aimeric did not say anything, but cocked his head. A stray curl fell in front of his face. Jord felt the sudden, reckless impulse to move it back. 

This is Lord Guion’s fourth son, he reminded himself. 

The Lady Loyse called for him again, and Aimeric excused himself. 

 

The next time that Jord was called to their lesson, Aimeric’s stance was almost perfect. Jord had not been expecting it, and Aimeric’s blow hit him right on the shoulder. 

“You’ve really improved,” Jord said. 

It was an off-the-cuff remark, and yet Aimeric seemed to radiate happiness at the words. “I’ve been practicing,” he said, too quickly, and the tips of his cheeks turned scarlet. 

Jord had been expecting to spend another session just on stances, and he stumbled as he tried to think of something more advanced to teach Aimeric. They spent the rest of the time talking about footwork. Aimeric listened once again so intently as he talked, and nodded, and Jord did not doubt he would be practicing what they discussed later that night. 

The lesson went long again, and Jord lingered too long in the room even after Aimeric had left. 

 

As Haldrin had predicted, the disposition of the other guards towards Jord improved noticeably now that he had taken over the responsibilities of tutoring Aimeric. “Has he thrown you out yet?” Alix asked one day with a smile. When Jord shook his head, Alix looked mildly curious. “Well, I suppose it’s only been two lessons. Just you wait. He refused once to continue. No explanation. Demanded I leave. No idea why. Too temperamental.” 

Jord did not say anything in response but merely nodded and tried to change the subject. 

It was the unspoken assumption of Alix and all the other guards that of course Jord was miserable with his new assignment. He could not bring himself to say that the lessons with Aimeric were his favorite part of the week. 

Aimeric could be stubborn about things, Jord saw, but he worked hard. And he wanted to improve, which was more than Jord thought could be said of a lot of people. 

He did see a flare of Aimeric’s temper the week that he decided to joke that they could move on from wooden swords but “Lord Guion probably wouldn’t want someone lowborn leaving a bruise on his son.” 

“I’m not a child,” Aimeric spat out, with a sudden viciousness that surprised Jord. “You shouldn’t treat me like one.” 

“I know, I know,” Jord said. He had no idea what about his words had provoked Aimeric, but clearly something had. “I’m sorry.” The apology seemed to deflate Aimeric, who looked surprised that Jord was not contradicting him. 

They moved on to practicing with real training swords. The difference in weight was difficult for Aimeric that first week, but by the next time that Jord saw him he’d been practicing enough that he was already comfortable with the new blades. 

 

It would have been the prudent thing to do, to leave thoughts of Aimeric behind in the room where they practiced, and not to dwell on him. 

Jord was less prudent than he thought. 

He could not stop thinking about Aimeric. It was pointless, he knew. The role of the guard was to protect the household, not mingle with it. There were men jockeying for political favors in the guard, but they had titles to call attention to themselves; Jord should consider himself lucky if Lord Guion came to know his name. No matter what the guards said about Aimeric not being a favorite son, by blood he was just like his father. 

And yet Jord could not stop thinking about the curl of Aimeric’s hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the shape of his lips. 

Idle thoughts. Imprudent thoughts. Best left behind with the training swords. 

One day, the guards were drilling when Jord heard someone mutter “what is he doing here.” Without breaking formation, Jord turned his gaze to follow the guard’s and was startled to see Aimeric standing on one of the balconies near the courtyard. 

“He’s never come here before,” muttered the guard next to Jord. 

Jord gave a faint shrug. Aimeric did not say or anything or do anything to call attention to himself during the drill, but when it was over, Jord saw him stand up. Jord couldn’t help but let his gaze drift upwards, and he thought he might have seen Aimeric smile. 

But it was a quick thing, gone as soon as Jord might have seen it. And then Aimeric left without saying a word. 

 

Lord Guion had been away the entire time that Jord had been at Fortaine, but messengers arrived one morning that said he would be returning to his castle within the week. The whole castle was talking about it, but Jord did not think much of it, except that the news of his father’s return had seemed to fill Aimeric with a nervous energy. In their practice it was not long before Aimeric was on the ground and Jord had to offer a hand to help him up. 

“You know, there is such a thing as practicing too much,” Jord said after the third time it happened, with a faint smile, “You’re going to get yourself hurt.” 

“I’m fine,” laughed Aimeric. “I want to try again.” 

“Aimeric, take a break.” Jord left the center of the room and sat against the wall. Aimeric joined after a few seconds. He stretched out his arms and winced. 

“Sore?” Jord asked. Aimeric nodded. “You have been working hard,” Jord added. Aimeric nodded again, a smile slowly spreading on his face. 

Jord was about to say something else, but Aimeric interrupted. “I want to tell my father I’ve improved.” 

“I’m sure your father will be proud.” 

To Jord’s confusion, Aimeric just shook his head. “I don’t want my father to be proud.” Aimeric’s gaze was distant. “I want him to send me to Arles.” 

For a minute, Jord wondered what in Arles could have Aimeric’s attention. But he chided himself – Aimeric was closer in rank to a prince than he was to Jord. Of course he would want to go to Arles. Arles was the center of Vere. It was a place where someone like Aimeric belonged. 

He thought of Aimeric as he had looked that day, on the balcony overlooking the soldiers in the yard. “Aimeric,” Jord started to ask, “why did you come watch the guards?” 

Aimeric cocked his head. A stray curl fell in his face, and Jord once again had to fight the desire to move it for him. 

“I wanted to see you train,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

It had not been at all obvious to Jord. It was not long before Lady Loyse came into the room and summoned Aimeric away. Jord lingered once again, but as he was leaving it struck him that maybe he was not the only one who did not leave the thoughts of their training sessions in this room. 

It was a dangerous thought, and Jord tried his best to forget it had ever occurred to him. 

 

Everyone in Fortaine came to see Lord Guion’s return. The cooks prepared a feast. The guards polished their armor. Jord didn’t doubt that even the lice in the castle had made themselves presentable. And when the day came and everyone in the castle went to the courtyard to see the lord of the house’s return, Jord’s eyes were on Aimeric. He was standing at attention a few yards in front of Jord, dressed in some of his finest linen. He’d tamed his curls for the occasion, but Jord couldn’t help but wonder if one or two might have slipped in front of his face. They were always doing that during practice. 

It was a great procession, much larger than anything Jord had seen before. First came, on foot, the servants. Then some of the guards who had journeyed with him close behind, on horses. And lastly, gleaming in the sun, arrived Lord Guion’s carriage. 

Jord watched as Lord Guion was escorted out of the carriage and went to embrace his wife and each of his children. He was not standing so far from the family; he heard when, upon reaching Aimeric, Lord Guion said, “I could not miss my son’s birthday!” 

Aimeric did not seem to have much of a reaction to the news. It was surprising to Jord, who had not known the occasion was coming up. Aimeric had not mentioned it at all in their lessons. 

They were supposed to have a lesson the next day, and Jord waited a long while before accepting that Aimeric would not show. No doubt he was busy with his father. 

It was to be expected. Jord tried not to dwell on just how disappointed not seeing Aimeric at the time made him. That was not to be expected. 

 

Preparations for a feast began not long after Lord Guion had arrived. The entire castle, it seemed, was to celebrate Aimeric’s birthday. 

Jord did not expect Aimeric to attend their next lesson – he was likely busy with the celebration, or his father, but to Jord’s surprise Aimeric did appear that day. 

“I’m sorry I missed last time,” he said, looking bashful. “My father had news from Arles and I lost track of time.” 

Jord just smiled. “I’m surprised you’re even here this week. With your birthday celebration so soon –.” 

Aimeric just grimaced. “Oh that,” he said, “it’s not a big deal.” 

“Your father said he came home for it,” Jord could not help but point out. “The whole castle is celebrating.” When Jord had been a child, he’d loved his birthdays – his mother would always sing for him. Some years his parents could even afford a gift. The first time he’d gotten a sword was on his birthday. He’d loved that stupid wooden sword. It had changed his life. 

Aimeric just shot Jord a curious look. “Yes,” he said, his voice unconvinced. 

The practice went well. Aimeric was still rough around the edges, but he had improved tremendously in a fairly short amount of time. 

“Did your father like your progress so far?” Jord asked, when they were done. “Was the news about Arles good?” 

Again, that curious look from Aimeric. “Not the news I wanted,” he said slowly. “Not yet, it seems. But there’s no surprise in that.” 

“Maybe soon,” Jord said with a smile. 

“Maybe,” Aimeric repeated, with the faintest echo of a smile. 

 

The castle soon began to fill up with guests from across the kingdom. It seemed that messengers were flitting everywhere: messengers to announce the arrival of someone, messengers to sadly bear the news of guests who could not make it, messengers loaded down with gifts. Jord had expected an aristocratic birthday to be a large affair, but nothing quite like this. He even asked Haldrin about it. 

“They do this all the time?” Jord could not imagine the expense. And Lord Guion had so many children, not to mention a wife and his own birthday – 

Haldrin merely looked politely confused at Jord’s confusion. “Oh, but Lord Guion is here,” he said, as if that was the obvious explanation. “And he’s a member of the court, and the ambassador to Akielos.” 

When Jord failed to understand the significance of those words, Haldrin tried again, in the voice of someone talking to a child. “These gifts are really for Lord Guion. They come from all over the kingdom. Remind him of the ties he has with different families. Members of the nobility get to show their loyalty. The gifts will provide plenty of grist for court gossip. You know, they say that King Theomedes has sent a gift from Akielos – and Prince Kastor another.” 

He smiled, as if this news was supposed to mean anything to Jord, who could not help but say, “But it’s Aimeric’s birthday.” 

“Yes, it is.” Haldrin did not even attempt to hide his confusion at what Jord had said. “Oh, that’s right,” he added with a sudden look of clarity, “you were tutoring him. Well, there won’t be a lesson on the day of the celebration, obviously.” 

Someone called for Haldrin and he walked away, leaving a confused Jord behind. 

 

They had organized a large table in the front of the room for the guests of honor. The rest of the hall was filled with long tables where the rest of the castle would eat. It was a great feast, more dishes than Jord thought he had likely ever seen in his lifetime. 

He could not help but watch the great table. Aimeric sat in the center, but it did not seem like he said much – every time Jord looked over, it seemed Lord Guion was speaking, and all eyes were on him. 

At some point Jord must have been too obvious in how he stared, because Alix muttered, not unkindly, “You know, you’ll never sit there.” 

“I know,” Jord muttered back. 

Even from a distance, he could see the tension in Aimeric’s shoulders, the way he did not smile as his father talked, and when Aimeric excused himself and stood up to go Jord followed. 

Aimeric was alone in the hallway when Jord caught up to him. 

“They’ll miss you if you leave,” he said. 

Aimeric turned back to face him. In the dim light of the candles, his expression was unreadable. “Will they?” he asked, half under his breath. 

He let Jord close the distance between them, but would not look Jord in the eye. “I just – needed some fresh air.” 

“We can go outside,” Jord suggested. 

“No,” Aimeric said, and there was a flash of something dangerous in his voice. “I know where I want to go.” 

Jord did not know what Aimeric was thinking, but he sensed that it was not a good time for Aimeric to be alone. “I’ll come with you,” he suggested immediately. 

There was only a boy attending the stables, and he was asleep. Aimeric roused him and got two of the horses ready. Jord had barely gotten settled into the saddle when Aimeric took off. Aimeric was a better rider than Jord had expected, and it took a minute to catch him. It was a short ride to the wall and Aimeric got off his horse. 

“This section isn’t going to be guarded now,” he said, and Jord did not doubt that it was probably the only explanation he would be getting this night. 

Jord had never been to the wall around Fortaine, though it was visible from the castle. They climbed together in silence. When they got to the top, Jord’s breath caught in his throat. 

It was a magnificent view. Jord had never been so tall up before; he could see the soft curve of rolling hills going for miles. 

Aimeric leaned on the railing. “It’s horrible, isn’t it?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Fortaine.” He turned around to look at Jord again. “You came from somewhere else. You must have gotten to see all kinds of exciting things. Look around. There’s nothing around Fortaine for miles. It’s boring.” 

“The view.” Jord could not begin to find the words. “It’s amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” 

“It’s just a lot of trees,” Aimeric said, not even trying to hide the petulance in his voice. But he was beginning to smile. “I used to come here when I was younger. When I really wanted to be alone. It’s not that hard to memorize the guard’s schedule. Even for a child. As for today – well, everyone’s inside. They’re only going to post the minimum number of men for tonight.” 

“It’s your birthday, Aimeric. Everyone will wonder where you went.” 

Aimeric did not say anything for a moment. “Do you really believe that?” he finally asked. Jord wondered how hard he had worked to keep all but a faint tinge of resentment out of his voice. 

Jord did not want to answer that question. 

When the silence had lingered for too long, Aimeric added, “I’m surprised you even noticed that I had left. I suppose it was just a coincidence – you must have been going out for some other reason.” 

“I was watching you,” Jord said. It came out like a confession. 

Aimeric gave a thin laugh and turned his head to look up at the night sky. “I’d have thought someone would have told you by now. I’m the disposable son.” 

“You’re not disposable,” Jord said, too sharply. 

Aimeric continued undeterred. “Unless you are gambling that something bad will happen to all of my older brothers before they inherit, there’s little I can do for you.” 

“I’m not – that’s not –.” This was all wrong, Jord found himself thinking. Aimeric was giving him a questioning look. Jord resolutely closed his mouth to keep any words he would regret from spilling out. 

It was too late. He had already said too much. “If you’re not trying to curry favor with me, why are you here?” Aimeric asked. “I’ve been wondering what you wanted ever since you actually helped me in my first lesson.” 

“I just wanted to –.” Jord began.

Be with you. 

He knew what he wanted to say. His tongue, however, had a better sense of self preservation than his heart, and he could not complete the sentence. 

Aimeric waited. The silence lingered. 

“This is wrong. This is dangerous,” Jord said suddenly. He turned towards the ladder down, his back to Aimeric. “I should go back.” 

“Jord,” Aimeric’s voice floated behind him, and his feet stopped of their own accord. “I’ll kiss you, if that’s what you want.” 

Every last inch of Jord wanted to turn back to Aimeric. Every last inch of Jord wanted to tell him yes. 

Aimeric was an aristocrat, he reminded himself. 

Lord Guion would not allow Jord to sit at the same table as Aimeric. To fantasize about anything more – well, he couldn’t conjure up anything more to fantasize about. He could conjure up the vision of himself getting the lash when Lord Guion discovered him. Himself, being thrown out of Fortaine, once anyone beside Aimeric knew. 

“You’re the son of a councilor,” Jord said. “I was born in a barn, and no one has ever thrown a feast for my birthday, even as a pretext for negotiations with my father.” 

“I’d like you to kiss me,” Aimeric continued. There was something different about his voice. Jord turned. Aimeric was standing against the wall, his shoulders hunched as he rested them on the stone. In the dying light, Jord thought he saw Aimeric blushing. “I don’t care about titles or any of that.” 

“You’ll care when your father has me thrown out of the Guards.” 

“Nobody needs to know. There’s no one around.” 

Jord wanted it, Jord want it to so badly he ached for it. He could feel the ghost of Aimeric’s lips against his own. But he had worked hard to become a guard. It meant a lot to him. He could not imagine rising so high and throwing it away so easily. 

“I would know,” he said, his voice flat. “And sooner or later, someone else would find out. Aimeric, we can’t do this.” 

He made his way down the ladder and waited for Aimeric to do the same. Aimeric stayed up on the wall for so long that Jord was half convinced sheer stubbornness would keep him there all night. But he finally climbed down, and they rode back to the fortress in silence. Jord made to escort Aimeric back to the great hall, but Aimeric shrugged him off. “I’m too tired,” he said, and made his way up to the stairs to his quarters. Jord did not try to follow him. He went back instead to the great hall, where the festivities had continued. He glanced at the front of the room. The guests were listening intently to some story that Lord Guion was telling. Aimeric’s seat was empty, and Jord wondered how long it would be before that fact was commented upon. 

If that fact was commented upon. 

Jord did not speak to any of the other guards or anyone else at the celebration for the rest of the night. 

 

Jord found himself wondering if Aimeric would continue with their lessons. He half-expected the aristocrat to simply not show up the next time. Part of him wondered if he even wanted Aimeric to be there. 

Aimeric did come to the next lesson, but did not share any pleasantries and wasted no time in getting ready. 

“Aimeric,” Jord began, not sure what he wanted to say. 

“If you’re here to teach me, then teach me,” Aimeric’s tone was ice. Jord knew that would be the last word on the matter. 

There was a wildness to Aimeric that day, while Jord’s whole body felt lethargic and slow to respond. The second time Aimeric managed to land a blow on Jord, Aimeric became visibly agitated. The third time, he threw his sword down in disgust. “You’re letting me win,” he said, and there was a dark accusation in his voice. 

Jord did not say anything to defend himself. 

It was the first time they’d ended the lesson early. 

 

Things improved the second week. They barely talked, but at least Aimeric seemed less upset than he had been before. The week after that, Aimeric was positively civil – but he would still not speak to Jord more than was absolutely necessary. 

Jord missed it. Jord missed how Aimeric used to smile at him, missed knowing if Aimeric had heard good news from Arles.

But he told himself this was better. It was definitely safer. Jord, with an aristocrat. What had he been thinking? Jord was not normally a man of such delusions. He told himself that he had done the right thing and that this was better for the both of them so much that he almost started to believe it. 

And then Lord Poitier came to Fortaine. 

He was a middle-aged man, with the first flecks of gray starting to run through his hair and beard. Half the guards said he was well-connected, while the other half scoffed that he had been relegated to a barren patch of land and would never amount to much. But everyone could agree that he had some connections in Arles, and the guards amused themselves by speculating just what those connections were worth. 

Jord would not normally have given such a man a moment’s thought. 

But the Lord Poitier paid a great deal of attention to Aimeric. Jord saw them going out for long walks on the castle grounds. After the family’s first dinner with their new guests, the servants gossiped how Lord Poitier had only had eyes for Aimeric. 

“My money he’ll bed him,” Alix said, as the guards sat down at their mess hall. “Five silver coins.” 

“I’ll take you on that,” scoffed Haldrin. “It’s not going to happen. This Lord Poitier is too obvious. Today he’ll make love to Aimeric in the gardens, but the moment he leaves Fortaine, he’ll do the same thing to the next young lord so easily taken in.” 

“What’s your bet?” Alix turned to Jord. 

“I’m not betting.” 

“Come on, you’ve got to have a bet,” Alix insisted. 

Jord took a deep breath. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. “I agree with Haldrin,” he finally muttered. 

The next morning, the gossip of the Palace favored Alix, and Jord was out five silver coins. 

 

It was a stupid, pointless thing to be jealous of an aristocrat, Jord knew. Not just that – if anyone found out the reason for his envy, a dangerous thing. 

And yet. 

And yet Jord could not stop this wild jealousy whenever he thought of Lord Poitier. 

Aimeric was young, pretty, reckless, and stubborn; Lord Poitier was nothing but a man who knew how to take advantage of that. 

When the drills were over and he should be resting, Jord went inside the castle. He went first to Aimeric’s room, where he found the door empty and a small, polite knock returned no result. Jord went looking around the castle to no avail. It was only when he returned to the room where they usually sparred that he found Aimeric, sitting alone and polishing the sword that he used for practice. 

Aimeric stiffened and stood up slightly as he saw Jord in the doorway. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to see you,” Jord answered honestly. 

“I think you indicated the opposite of that not too long ago.” 

“I know I don’t have any right to what I’m about to say – I don’t have any right to feel this way, but,” Jord started. “I saw you with that lord from last night. And I just got so jealous. I couldn’t stand it. I had to do something, had to say something.” 

Color rose in Aimeric’s cheeks, and there was a curious expression in his eyes. Jord felt his own face flush. The common sense that had been driven out by thoughts of Lord Poitier started to return home. This was a mistake. He wondered what Aimeric made of the situation. 

What Aimeric said was, “Come in, and close the door.” 

The moment that Jord obeyed, Aimeric had stood up and closed the distance in between them. Jord closed his eyes as he felt Aimeric’s lips on his own and he leaned into the kiss quicker than his mind could come up with all the reasons this was a bad idea. And when he felt how Aimeric melted into the kiss, how he moved his hand to cradle Jord’s neck – suddenly all those reasons didn’t matter to Jord at all. 

“I’ve thought about you a lot,” Jord said, as he broke away. “Thought about what it would be like to kiss you.” 

“Was it what you expected?” Aimeric teased. There was an easy smile on his face, one that Jord had not seen before. 

“Let me try again and I’ll tell you,” Jord answered. He leaned in again. This second kiss was slower, more relaxed. Jord hoped it spoke to many more kisses like this to come. 

“If I had known I just had to make you jealous, I would have tumbled someone on my birthday night,” Aimeric laughed. 

“I can’t believe you let Lord Poitier –,” the words tasted too foul in Jord’s mouth to even continue. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Aimeric’s mouth quirked. 

“He’s ugly and he’s old,” Jord said with a frown. 

Aimeric laughed again. “He had a lot of news about Arles.” Aimeric leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss again. “But he was not as good a kisser as you, I’ll give you that.” 

Aimeric wanted to take Jord to his room, but relented when Jord said that it would look suspicious if he did not go back to the barracks soon. Aimeric made sure to give him one last kiss before he left, though, and Jord slept with a smile on his face that night. 

 

Jord learned a few things about Aimeric after that night. 

The first was that Aimeric was good at sneaking around. He came up with a lot of pretexts for Jord to be called inside, and then always seemed to know which rooms in the fortress would be deserted. 

“I spent a lot of time looking for quiet places as a child,” Aimeric said, when Jord asked about this ability. At Jord’s questioning look, Aimeric continued, “It’s not easy to have three older brothers.” If Jord had any questions after that, Aimeric’s lips on his own and a room to themselves quick made him forget them. 

Jord also learned that Aimeric would not be long content with kisses. The second time that Aimeric had gotten Jord alone, he maneuvered Jord against the floor and then straddled him. Aimeric smiled at the expression he could get from Jord as he ground his hips against Jord’s groin. 

“So, Jord, are you going to fuck me?” 

Jord’s breath drew in sharply. He hadn’t even gotten himself to fantasize about this and yet – 

There was the sudden sound of muffled voices. Aimeric and Jord both turned in the direction of the door, shoulders tense, but the voices passed without even stopping by the room. Jord forced himself to breath again once he was sure they were safe. Aimeric turned back to him, grin back in place, as if nothing had happened. 

“Aimeric, we can’t,” Jord said, his breathing heavy. 

Aimeric frowned. “Why not? They’re gone. We’re not going to be disturbed.” 

“What if we get caught?” 

A frustrated sigh greeted his words. “I thought you weren’t concerned about that anymore.” He ground his hips once again, but stopped with a hurt expression when Jord made to sit up. 

“Something like a kiss is easily broken off if we hear someone coming. But if I were to bed you –.” His tongue struggled to even form the words. It still felt impossible. He thought Aimeric might understand, but Aimeric just looked politely confused. “I want to bed you properly,” Jord tried again. “I want to bed you like you deserve. And I can’t do that if I’m always concerned that at any moment someone could walk in on us and interrupt.” 

Aimeric’s eyes widened slightly at his words. He did not say anything, but looked down for a second. 

“I have an idea,” Jord said, and he reached his arms around Aimeric to draw him in close. 

Aimeric let out a soft, surprised, “Oh,” even as Jord bent down to kiss at his neck. For a moment Aimeric’s back was so stiff that Jord wondered if he was uncomfortable, but then the aristocrat relaxed and leaned back against Jord. Jord could not help but wonder if it was the first time that Aimeric had ever curled up with a lover. It seemed difficult to believe – what kind of lover could be so inattentive? But either way, they stayed like that for a while, until it was dark and Jord had to return. Aimeric made a slight noise of protest when Jord went to leave, and Jord kissed him again and promised that he would be back as soon as he could. 

Jord would have kept sneaking around Fortaine and stealing kisses from Aimeric for as long as he could, but things changed when it was announced that Lord Guion would be leaving again for a voyage. He would be sailing south, down to Akielos. At first, Jord did not concern himself much with the news. Aimeric did not believe his father was likely to ask him to attend. As for guards, Jord assumed Lord Guion would be taking the same men he had taken on his other journey. 

But then Haldrin took him aside one morning and told him that he had requested Jord to be assigned to the voyage. 

“How long will it take?” Jord asked at once. 

“Probably a month. It depends on what the negotiations are like,” Haldin said, as Jord tried to suppress a sigh. “You are a man of some skill. There is much that you could teach the men – particularly now that they have become, well, accustomed to a man of your background being part of their ranks.” 

The man who had arrived at Fortaine on a merchant train might have been proud to hear those words. The man who had sparred with Alix and faced the consequences for bruising his arm might have been heard them with distrust. But Jord had someone else on his mind. “I’d rather stay in Fortaine, sir,” he said. “If – if that’s possible.” 

Haldrin seemed genuinely shocked at the request. “Why?” he asked. 

Jord did not have a good answer for that – at least, not one that he could share with someone else. “I like being at Fortaine,” he concluded lamely. 

With a slight look of concern, Haldrin clapped him on the shoulder. “You will like it in Isthmas,” he said. “Lord Guion is going to see the Prince Kastor. It is an important mission. If you do well on this journey, you’ll have the chance to make a good impression with the Councilor.” 

Jord nodded. He did not have the heart to tell Haldrin how little he cared about making a good impression with Lord Guion. Instead, the first moment he could enter the fortress without being followed, Jord found Aimeric and asked if he could request his father to take him along. 

“My father never takes me on these kind of trips,” Aimeric said with a frown. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go.” 

Aimeric sighed. He gave a small, thin smile. “I should have expected this. My father is always traveling. When he is not in Akielos, he is in Arles. He’s an important man, I suppose.” 

“I’m sure he misses you when he is gone,” Jord said quickly. The noise that Aimeric made in reply did not sound entirely convinced. “Is that why you want to go to Arles? To see your father more?” 

Aimeric shook his head. “Someone else,” he answered. But before Jord could say anything, he continued, his voice pensive, “You know, I’ve wanted to go to Arles for so long that I’ve started thinking it was the only thing I could do. But you’ve made being in Fortaine so much better.” 

“I just wish I could be in Fortaine this next month,” Jord frowned. 

“Everyone leaves Fortaine,” Aimeric laughed. “I’m used to it.” 

Jord wondered what he meant, but Aimeric silenced anything he might have said with a quick kiss. 

 

As the day for the departure drew closer and closer, Aimeric seemed to get more and more closed off. Aimeric loved to be kissed, Jord was used to the way that he melted under kisses, but recently Aimeric had seemed to almost bristle whenever Jord touched him. 

“I just wish you’d let me give you more than kisses to remember me while you’re away,” Aimeric finally said one day. 

“I wish I didn’t have to gone at all,” Jord said. “The real you is better than any memory would be.” 

Aimeric laughed even as he drew in Jord for another kiss. “You’re making it harder for me to see you go.” 

“Will you see me off?” 

Aimeric raised his eyebrows at that. “What, do you want me to give you a goodbye kiss in front of my father?” He laughed even as he shook his head. “As much as I doubt he cares what I am getting up to, even he might baulk at that.” 

“No,” Jord said. “Not like that. Just – be there. I want to see as much of you as possible before I leave.” 

“You can see as much of me now as you’d like,” Aimeric said, running his hand over Jord’s chest. “Alright,” he finally said, after a particularly sharp glance from Jord. “You know, I haven’t seen my father off in years. But if that is what you want, I will be there.” 

When the day arrived, Aimeric did show up – so late that Jord had begun to fear he had changed his mind, but he was still there. He joined his mother and two older brothers in seeing off Lord Guion. They all seemed rather shocked to see him there. 

“What brought you out here?” Guion said, with a faint frown. 

“I just wanted to see you,” Aimeric demurred. 

“I’m not going to Arles.” Aimeric merely smiled in response to his father’s words. Standing with his family, he barely looked at Jord more than in passing. Jord found it hard to keep his eyes off Aimeric. No doubt it would have been suspicious, except Aimeric’s presence at this event was so unusual that everyone else was openly staring at him too. As they left, it occurred to Jord that Aimeric was likely better at deception than he was. 

If only, Jord found himself thinking, if only there could be no need for deception at all. 

 

It took almost a week to reach Isthmas. Jord personally despised boats, and this one more than most. He spent the days silently cursing the boat, the ocean, Akielos. Whatever he felt like. 

He also spent a great deal of time thinking about Aimeric. 

He wondered whether Aimeric would like the occasional view of the coast. He wondered whether or not Aimeric would mind the rolling of the boat, or whether he’d get sick like half of Lord Guion’s retinue. 

(He even spent a little bit of time wondering if he was thinking of Aimeric more than Lord Guion was thinking of Aimeric.) 

He thought about how Aimeric would almost certainly have been able to find some secret spot below decks where he could kiss Jord. Maybe they’d even find a room where they could be confident they would not be interrupted for a good long while. 

He thought about what it would be like, to able to shower Aimeric with attention like he wanted, and to not have to hide it from the rest of the world. 

Sometimes Jord thought about how much time he was wasting on impossible thoughts. 

The negotiations between Lord Guion and Prince Kastor began the day after they landed. Jord was not trusted to stand watch anywhere he might overhear the discussions, and so he spent hours standing outside and guarding a perimeter from nothing except the glance of a curious Akielon onlooker.

There was not much in Akielos, in Jord’s opinion, although it was a subject of some fascination to the men. At night, the men would talk in whispers. Would it soon be warm enough for the women to walk around bare-chested, or were those only rumors? Would Kastor be bringing any of the famed Palace slaves to the negotiations any of these days? Would they be able to spot some of the local Akielons playing sports in the nude? 

There were also darker whispers, about whether or not the Councilor was really here as part of his official duties as Ambassador to Akielos, whether or not Arles knew of this visit, whether or not Ios knew. 

Jord did not have much to add to these discussions. He did not really care about the answers to any of the questions bandied about. When the guards had time for themselves, Jord did not really go out with the other men. He did go to the market once, though, where he saw a sword that looked well-made and a good weight for Aimeric. He bought it without thinking much of it, and he had the rest of the trip to berate himself as he compared this rather plain sword to all the much nicer gifts he knew Aimeric would be accustomed to. 

 

Messengers greeted them as soon as they had gotten back to Vere, and messengers continued to come and go until they were almost at the gates of Fortaine. Once or twice, Jord thought he heard Aimeric’s name being mentioned, but he put it down to an overactive imagination on his part. When they had returned, it was a few days before Jord could see Aimeric, and there were rumors among the guards that Lord Guion was suddenly spending a great deal of time with his fourth son. Jord felt a sick sense of dread – had Lord Guion learned the truth? But he reminded himself that if Lord Guion had learned the truth of the matter he would not have needed to talk to his son at length about the matter; giving Jord the lash and then dismissing him would have been enough. 

The next time he saw Aimeric, though, he was being drawn into an empty room and Aimeric’s lips were on his own and he forgot all his worries in an instant. 

“I missed you,” Aimeric said, one hand cupping Jord’s cheek. “How was Akielos?” 

“Not as good as staying in Fortaine,” Jord answered, to Aimeric’s laughter. It was nice to kiss him again, to remember how he smelled, the taste of his skin, the pitch of his laugh, the curve of his smile, all the little details Jord had been subsisting off the memory of while he had been away. 

“I have a very hard time believing that.” 

“I got you a gift,” Jord pulled away to fumble with the sword he had stashed in his belt, while Aimeric frowned in confusion. 

“I haven’t gotten a gift from any of my father’s trips since I was a boy.” 

Jord finally got the sword free from his belt and he held it up in his hands to show it to Aimeric. Looking at it again now, he could not help but feel his face heat up. It was a simple, dull thing, ugly even in its plainness. 

But Aimeric’s smile was wide as he picked the sword up and gave it an experimental thrust. 

“I love it,” he said. 

“I thought of you when I saw it. It’s a good short sword. Good weight, well made.” 

The way that Aimeric was smiling seemed genuine. Jord had started to smile too. He was just starting to feel better about the gift when Aimeric stopped and looked contemplative. 

“You were thinking about me in Akielos.” 

That took Jord by surprise. “Of course I was thinking of you in Akielos,” he said. He fought the urge to laugh. “Could barely stop. Picturing you and me, alone –.” He managed to stop himself before he could say too much more. Aimeric was still looking at the sword, but there was something in his expression to suggest he was listening intensely. 

“I can arrange that.” 

Jord felt compelled to add, “Something more than a deserted room in the castle.” 

“I know.” Aimeric’s smile returned, with an edge that Jord by now knew meant Aimeric had made up his mind about something. “I can arrange that.” Jord’s confusion must have been plain on his face, because Aimeric added, as way of explanation, “My father has been talking – he wants me to visit Lord Touras in Ravenel. A quick trip, nothing too exciting. But I will need a guard. You can be that guard.” 

“Your father will want you sent off with more than one man.” 

“I’ll fix that,” Aimeric promised. 

 

Jord was told about the assignment a few days later. Haldrin was almost apologetic as he gave Jord the news. 

“Alix was supposed to go as well, but that seemed likely to cause a conflict. I will be assigning Valron to go as well.” 

“Are you sure that’s necessary?” Jord tried to keep his voice neutral, and almost succeeded. “It’s a short ride and the road is safe. Two riders should be able to pass unmolested.” 

Haldrin made a face in response. “Lord Guion has many sons, but it’s still on my head if anything happens to Aimeric on the road. Valron will be riding with you.” 

News came the next day that Aimeric had refused to ride with Valron on the grounds of a feud that was a few years old and almost forgotten. Lord Guion asked Haldrin to assign someone else. Marle was chosen as the second rider. The day after that, Aimeric and Marle almost came to blows over some slight; it was only the timely intervention of one of the older brothers that stopped the fight from escalating into something serious. 

“I hope that you do not get into any fights with Aimeric soon,” Haldrin told him with a sigh. “I’m running out of men.” 

“The road is safe. Two riders will be safe.” 

It took a great deal of self-control not to grin like an idiot when Haldrin nodded in defeat. 

 

When it came time to ride, Aimeric barely looked at him and they had ridden for almost an hour before they stopped for the first time. Fortaine had already faded off into the distance. There was only the dirt of the road and the rolling hills behind and before them, as far as the eye could see. 

“If we press the horses, we would be able to arrive before nightfall,” Jord pointed out. 

“I think something might be wrong with one of my horse’s knees,” Aimeric said, gesturing down to his horse that was quite healthy and had been riding without problems. “And besides,” he grinned wildly, “who knows what other delays can befall two riders on a road?” 

They stopped at a brook not too far from the main road to let the horses drink. The sun was high in the air as Jord pinned Aimeric against the grass of the bank and kissed him lazily. Behind them the water babbled. Insects droned dully in the air. But it was otherwise quiet. There would be no sudden muttering of voices coming around a corner, no footsteps echoing in the nearby hallway. 

Jord undid the laces on Aimeric’s breeches and took him into his mouth. He liked the way that Aimeric called out his name with his aristocratic accent even as he tore up the grass with his hands. Before they left to continue on the road, Aimeric insisted on returning the favor. Even when Aimeric’s mouth was on his cock, Jord could hardly believe that it was happening; he thought he might still be in Ravenel dreaming. His release came quickly, and Aimeric swallowed it without saying a word, but smiled as he wiped his cheek with his hand. 

They continued on the road a little bit longer than that. It was not yet dark by the time Aimeric said to pitch the tents. 

“I am concerned about my horse’s knee,” Aimeric said, gesturing to his unbothered horse again. “I don’t want to tire it out too much.” 

“I think,” Jord said, when they were done pitching the tent, “that you have a way of getting what you want.” 

Aimeric smiled. “I wish it were that easy.” 

“It’s not?” 

“It’s not always easy to know what you want.” Aimeric said. “But for now,” he drew Jord in closer, “I’m pretty sure what I want is going to be inside that tent.” 

If Jord thought he had been dreaming before, he was confident he was not now: he had never been bold enough to even fantasize about this moment. His fingers felt coarse and heavy as they fumbled with the elegant laces of Aimeric’s clothing. Up close, it was hard to miss how rich the fabric that Aimeric wore was, how gold was threaded into the very hem. But when the laces were undone, and Aimeric had started to shrug off his clothes, Jord hardly noticed any details of the fabric at all – his eyes were on Aimeric’s creamy fair skin and the way it reddened as Aimeric noticed the open amazement with which Jord was staring at him. 

“I hadn’t thought I’d ever get to see you like this,” Jord half-whispered to himself. “You’re beautiful,” he added, because he could not think of anything else to say, and because it was true. 

Aimeric did not say anything for a moment, but dropped his gaze. “I want to look at you,” he finally said, all at once, “when you’re inside me.” He worried his bottom lip suddenly and looked unsure of himself. As if he’d said too much. 

Jord freed himself from his own clothes quickly enough and went for the oil. He took his time preparing Aimeric, whose breath hitched as Jord slowly worked in one finger and then two. 

“I want to be inside you,” Jord said. Aimeric nodded with his eyes half-hooded, splaying out his curls even farther against the fabric of the tent. Jord buried his face in Aimeric’s neck as he thrust into him, sucking and biting at the sensitive flesh near the collar bone. 

Aimeric was surprisingly quiet at first, and Jord wondered briefly if he’d had previous lovers who asked him to be. “It’s alright,” Jord said suddenly. “There’s no one around, you can be as loud as you want.” Aimeric let out a quick moan and then a ragged laugh. 

“Do you want me to be loud?” he asked. 

“I want you,” Jord answered, “to do what you want.” 

Aimeric had nothing to say to that, but arched his back and moaned at Jord to go faster. He kept on with the quiet moans and curses until Jord reached a good rhythm and went to wrap a hand around Aimeric’s cock. A particularly well-timed thrust got a scream out of Aimeric. He looked so embarrassed afterwards, but Jord just muttered kisses and encouragements into his neck. By the time Jord could feel Aimeric tense up and climax on his hand, he called out Jord’s name and made such needy whimpers that Jord’s own release followed quickly after. 

They lay tangled up together afterwards and were soon asleep; the sun had already risen by the time Jord woke up. Jord fumbled with his breeches as he went to check on the horses, careful not to disturb the still sleeping Aimeric. They should have had a guard, he found himself thinking, in case of thieves, but luckily no one seemed to have bothered the horses during the night. He thought about what he had told Haldrin. Two lone travelers would not attract much trouble. 

He returned back inside the tent to a sleepy Aimeric who was sitting up and gazing at him in confusion. “Thought you’d left,” he finally said. 

“Where would I have gone?” Jord teased. “Just wanted to make sure the horses were alright.” He kneeled back down on the ground to give Aimeric a kiss. 

Aimeric did not look so convinced. “People leave,” he said softly. “Jord, I –,” he began, and then broke off. His eyes would not meet Jord’s. “I’m going to talk to Lord Touras about going to Arles.” 

Jord felt he must be missing something. “That’s great. You’ve said you wanted to go. You’ll go up to Arles. You could be an officer there.” 

“And what about you?” 

Jord had not thought so far ahead. “I can go to Arles too. There might be some position open to me. A foot soldier, maybe.” It was not such a difficult thing to imagine. Besides Aimeric, there was little to keep him at Fortaine. 

Something about his answer seemed to amuse Aimeric, though. “I can’t imagine what idiot would give me a command post and not you,” he huffed. 

Some idiot looking to please Lord Guion, Jord wanted to say; no one had ever gone out of their way to please Jord’s father. But the tension in Aimeric’s shoulder and the way he had turned his head down to the floor suggested Aimeric’s mind was already somewhere else. Jord ran a hand down Aimeric’s side, drawing a shiver out of him. It wasn’t long before he was able to get Aimeric on his back again, and Jord knew that whatever had been on Aimeric’s mind earlier, Aimeric’s full attention was now back to the tent. 

 

They found another brook not too far away to get washed up in. Jord went in first and then watched Aimeric bathe as he dried himself on the nearby bank. He smiled lazily at Aimeric, who smiled easily back. It struck Jord that he had seen Aimeric at his most unguarded on this trip to Ravenel. 

It was not a glimpse of Aimeric most people go to see. 

It was a glimpse of Aimeric that Jord would do anything to protect. 

It was not a glimpse of Aimeric that could last. Jord would have dragged the journey out forever if he could, but they were only a few hours ride from Ravenel. Lord Touras greeted them cordially as they arrived, which is to say that he invited Aimeric in, heard Aimeric’s excuses about the horses (and even promised a groom to examine the quite healthy horse), and left Jord to talk with the stablehand and arrange the specifics of their stay in the stable. 

Jord did not see much of Aimeric that first day; he spent most of it in private conversations with Lord Touras. But at night, Aimeric called for Jord to join him in the room, on the pretext of some question about a map. He closed the door and started to kiss Jord eagerly, but Jord drew away. 

“Someone might hear. Rumors might start.” 

At first Aimeric looked as if he might protest, but he seemed to think the better of it. “Lord Touras is sleeping only a few rooms down,” he admitted. 

“I can’t wait to be on the road again,” Jord said. 

Aimeric nodded. His expression was troubled. 

They stayed only a few nights at Ravenel. Jord had never been so glad to leave a place. 

 

Aimeric was quiet on the road, and it was only when they had begun to set up the tent that he asked Jord, “Do you like Fortaine?” 

It was such an odd question that it took a while for Jord to answer. “It is nice,” he finally said. “It’s a beautiful fortress.” 

“You don’t find it boring?” Aimeric pressed. 

Jord shook his head. “I like being at Fortaine because I like being with you.” 

That drew a brief smile from Aimeric, who seemed to contemplate the words. But suddenly he frowned. “But you’ve never gone to Arles.” 

“I would go to Arles,” Jord said softly. “If you went there.” 

Another long pause. And then, finally, Aimeric said hesitantly, “I’m not so sure that I want to go to Arles anymore.” At Jord’s questioning look, Aimeric continued, “There was a man there. I thought I wanted to see him again. I thought he wanted to see me again. I’m not – I’m not so sure anymore.” 

“An old lover?” Jord asked. He did a bad job of keeping the jealousy out of his voice. When Aimeric nodded, Jord pressed, “Not Lord Poitier?” 

“No,” Aimeric laughed. But his expression sobered quickly. He fumbled for a minute, before saying, with the abashed look of someone sharing a secret, “The Regent.” 

Jord had always known that Aimeric was closer to a king by birth than he was to Jord. But it was possible to forget that, sometimes. The longer he forgot, the ruder his awakening. 

His throat felt very dry and he could not think of anything to say. 

“He visited Fortaine. When I was a boy.” 

Jord frowned. “A boy?” 

“Fourteen.” Aimeric nodded. He added quickly, as if to assuage Jord of any jealousy, “I have not seen him since.” 

But Jord no longer felt jealousy. Disgust had crowded out any other emotion. 

“That’s too young.” Jord knew there were probably some members of the nobility who kept young pets, but – thinking about Aimeric – he could not bear to even contemplate the possibility. 

“Even if the boy has three older brothers and is eager for the attention?” Aimeric asked. His voice was soft. 

“I think,” Jord answered slowly, “it would be even worse to take advantage of a boy like that.” 

The tips of Aimeric’s cheeks went red. 

“I never thought about it like that,” he said after a moment. “I just thought – well, he left Fortaine. And I kept convincing myself that he really did care. Even though he never wrote. Even though he never came back to visit. And it wasn’t until I was with you that I realized that that wasn’t – it wasn’t real. And now I don’t – I don’t want to go to Arles, but I’m not sure what to do.” 

Jord wrapped his arms around Aimeric, and felt how he almost melted in relief. 

“Just stay in Fortaine,” Jord whispered. “Tell your father, tell Lord Touras, tell whoever that you don’t want to leave.” 

“When I was talking to Lord Touras, he seemed to imply – that there was something much bigger going on. My father’s strange trip to Akielos. Rumors from Arles. And now it is trying to draw me in. And I’m not so sure I can easily escape it.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Jord said, and he leaned down to kiss the top of Aimeric’s head. 

 

That night, Jord tried to memorize every inch of Aimeric’s body, every mark on his skin. 

He did not know when he would get to see Aimeric like this again. 

He fell asleep with his arms around wrapped around Aimeric, but when he woke Aimeric was already sitting up on the floor of the tent. Jord suspected from the smudges under Aimeric’s eyes that the aristocrat had not slept well, although he smiled when Jord kissed him in the morning. 

They were on their horses before Aimeric said what was on his mind. 

“If I say no to my father,” Aimeric started, and then shook his head. “Well, I don’t think my father is the type of man who likes to hear the word no. And I doubt the Regent is, either.” 

Jord shifted his weight in the saddle. They were walking the horses, and Aimeric was a little ways ahead. His horse was more skittish than normal. It must have been picking up some of the anxieties of its rider. Aimeric had to reign it in, until Jord was standing next to him. 

“What would you do,” he asked, “if my father were to send me to Arles?” 

“My answer is still the same as it was before.” Jord smiled. “I would go with you. If you would have me.” 

A small smile from Aimeric, almost disbelieving. It faded quickly, though. “What if,” he asked again, “I were to run away. Would you go with me then?” 

Jord pulled too sharply on the reigns of his horse, causing it to stop sharply and throw its head in annoyance. Jord paid it no mind. “Aimeric,” he said, half in disbelief. Aimeric gave that small smile again, but Jord could tell how he flinched. “That is,” Jord struggled to find the right words. “You’ll be giving up so much.” 

“A life in Fortaine? Is that really so much?” 

“You’ll appreciate the privileges you had once you try living without them.” 

Aimeric made a non-committal noise. “You may be right. I’ve never lived anywhere but Fortaine, I don’t know what it’s like. And it might – it might not even come to that. If I tell my father no, maybe he’ll listen. Maybe he’ll decide that whatever it is he has planned for me, it won’t work out. And I’ll just stay in Fortaine, a disappointing fourth son.” He let out a huff of amusement. “There are worse fates. But Jord, if it doesn’t – will you come with me?” 

Jord had rarely seen Aimeric be so seriously. Jord’s throat went dry, and he nodded. They walked the horses in silence a little farther. The troubled look never left Aimeric’s face.

 

Once they had returned to Fortaine, Aimeric was once again a noble and Jord just another guard. They parted ways, and Jord returned to the barracks. The men there congratulated him on surviving an extended trip with Aimeric. Jord just grunted in reply, and that was it. 

Aimeric did not call him for a few days. When Jord went to where their usual lessons were, Aimeric was not there. Eventually, Lady Loyse came into the room and said hesitantly, “You were his instructor?” When Jord nodded, she continued, her lips tight in a great imitation of a smile. “Well, we thank you for your service. But Aimeric will not be needing any more lessons.” 

She had gone before Jord could find the voice to ask for any more information. 

Jord tried looking for Aimeric around the castle, and saw nothing. 

Rumors started that there had been a disagreement between Aimeric and Lord Guion, and that Lord Guion had ordered Aimeric under lock and key until the matter was resolved. Suddenly everyone started to ask Jord more and more about his trip with Aimeric. Had there been any change in Aimeric he noticed, anything odd at all? “Nothing,” he always answered. “I have no idea.” The questions did not stop, and Jord suspected he was quite simply a bad liar. But he kept his lips closed and his ears open and hoped for more news. 

And then one night, he awoke to Aimeric shaking his shoulder. Before Jord could even make a sound, Aimeric placed a finger against his lips. There was a bag around his shoulder and a questioning look on his face. Jord knew this was the moment. 

He nodded. 

They went to the stables and prepared two of the horses. They rode hard into the night. Aimeric lead the way, but Jord recognized the direction they were traveling. They crossed into Akielos before dawn. There was an inn not too far from the border where they stole a few hours worth of sleep, Jord’s arms around Aimeric’s. 

Aimeric was awake by the time Jord woke up. Jord wondered if he had managed to get even a little sleep. 

“I told my father no, and he locked me away. So I told him I changed my mind, and ran. I am sure by now he has already noticed my absence.” 

Jord wrapped his arms loosely around Aimeric, who let out a deep breath and let his shoulders sag against Jord. 

“Where do you want to go?” 

Aimeric shook his head. “My father is less likely to think to find me in Akielos, but eventually he might look. I just want to be as far away from Fortaine as possible. Somewhere he won’t find me. Patras, maybe. Anywhere.” 

Jord nodded. “We can ride south, we can ride east. The choice is yours. We’ll find someplace safe. I’ll go back to being a guard on a merchant van. You can start a new life.” 

“Just like you used to be,” Aimeric said, and he sounded almost amused. “You know, Jord, you said it would be a sacrifice for me, but I think you gave up more than I did.” 

Jord made to kiss Aimeric. It was going to a quick kiss, a stolen thing. But then he remembered that they had left Fortaine and much of the danger of discovery behind. There was no around who would know that this was not supposed to be. So he drew out the kiss, pinning Aimeric against the bed, and reveled in the soft, contented noises that his lover made.


End file.
